Gabby: On a retirement
The email I am not supposed to be reading does not, precisely, surprise me, but it fills me with a strange flavor of anger. Walking wounded? It sounds a little like running away to me. I have stopped counting my own losses, but I could measure time in death, in loss... and still I go on.
But the anger, like everything else, fades. In the balance, I cannot blame him. I'm running too, with pills and liquor to numb my pain, and nothing learned about myself from the experience.
I have hated you, cousin, because I loved you. I have loved you because I have hated you.
You took from me what I held most dear, and now the world has done the same to you, and I am sorry for it.
Go then. Be a leaf on the wind, and soar.
But the anger, like everything else, fades. In the balance, I cannot blame him. I'm running too, with pills and liquor to numb my pain, and nothing learned about myself from the experience.
I have hated you, cousin, because I loved you. I have loved you because I have hated you.
You took from me what I held most dear, and now the world has done the same to you, and I am sorry for it.
Go then. Be a leaf on the wind, and soar.